


"I always knew you were alive...”

by ScytheMeister7



Series: 30 Dialogue Prompts - April [29]
Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Army, M/M, Military Mark, Reunion, Sick Jack, not really - Freeform, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 00:50:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10776021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScytheMeister7/pseuds/ScytheMeister7
Summary: Prompt Twenty-Nine: Mark comes home after a long time





	"I always knew you were alive...”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this is a day late. I had a lot of stuff going on yesterday, but as an apology, this one is a bit longer and I hope you enjoy it.

When Mark left that day, Jack wasn’t sad. He knew it would come sooner or later, though he didn’t expect it to come  _ this  _ soon. Still, watching Mark walk out that door, dressed in his military wear, Jack wasn’t sad. 

Instead...he was terrified. The two of them had gone over this moment almost everyday since Mark had been drafted into the Black Army, yet nothing could have actually prepared him for the moment it actually happened. 

Mark was fit and healthy, as well as the perfect age to be turned into the perfect soldier. Jack was injured, having suffered from a bad sickness. While the illness had passed, there had been long-lasting effects that left him feeling weak much too often. 

The day the letter came, they both curled up onto the couch together, Mark with his face pressed into Jack’s neck while the younger man ran his fingers soothingly through jet black hair.

The Black Army had a reputation for being incredibly brutal in their training tactics, turning normal men and women into what could only be described as living weapons. Mark had been selected for a particular program, one no one knew the details of, details he wouldn’t find out until he’d actually arrived at the military camp in Geniva. 

The day Jack watched Mark leave, he prepared himself for the worst. There was a high possibility that he’d never see the love of his life again and there was nothing he could do but hope that if he did, it would be a closed casket. 

\---

Mark had been missing for five years. Gone for seven, missing for five. Well, he’d been cleared as dead, but Jack refused to think that was actually possible. 

When the news came back, Jack had been given the story by the commanding officer of Mark’s squadron. It had been during an undercover op where one of the Red Army privates had recognized Mark from a past altercation. Jack had screamed at them that day, yelling and asking why they would have ever sent him if there was a possibility he would be caught. 

Even with the weakness in his arms, he still banged as hard as he could on the taller man’s chest, feeling satisfaction not in the damage he was  not inflicting on the other man, but rather the pain racing up his own arms. 

After the day he’d received the news, Jack lived life as a ghost. He barely ate other than when he absolutely had to, fell sick multiple times due to neglecting his medication, and had one altercation in which he was driven to the hospital by a stranger after passing out while on the sidewalk. 

To him, things didn’t make sense nor matter anymore. His lover, life, best friend….Mark. He was gone, and to Jack, that made life no longer worth living. He refused to kill himself, rationalizing that it would be like stepping on Mark’s sacrifice for him to just end his life.

In reality, Jack just knew he was too weak to go through with it, fearing the pain of taking a knife and slashing through his pale skin. 

So Jack went on barely living for five years, the wear and tear of everyday bearing down on him just a little bit more each day. That was...until he woke up to someone standing by his bed. 

\---

He moved quietly, more soundless than a predator sneaking up towards their prey. It had been a part of his training, turning him into a brutal and silent machine that only made noise when it deemed necessary. 

Mark didn’t know why he was here. He’d spent the last five years gone in the wind after two years of military service. The stories of the Black Army’s training had been no joke and Mark had finished it all in about half a year thanks to the accelerated program he’d been picked to participate in.

It had been the worst six months of his life as the ‘training’ he’d went through wasn’t actual training. Rather, Mark and a group of about twenty other men and women had been subjected to countless tests and experiments with the goal to turn them into the world’s best super soldiers. Almost all of them had died. All but five, including Mark. 

They were an elite team, used for almost every high class job that the Black Army put them to. They worked incredibly well together, one of the tests joining their consciousnesses in order for them to feel when another was in distress or need. 

During the first week of their new existences, Mark had nearly been driven crazy by the intrusive feeling of four other people being in his head, but the days went on and he got used to it, as did the rest. 

Missions came and went until finally, the five realized that something not so right was going on. The Black Army had been founded in order to provide a defense against the Red Army, a group determined to control the world and control it with the unnatural abilities they’d grafted into themselves. 

During the two years Mark worked as a soldier, he slowly began to realize that the Black Army wasn’t so much better. Mark and his team had not been the first to be part of that ‘special program’. No, others had been subjected to it, either dying during the process, or coming out of it with broken minds and mutilated bodies. The Black Army had not been trying to combat the Red Army, but rather one-up them with their own super soldiers. 

Upon finding out about these plans, Mark and his team pledged they’d stop this. Two died during their efforts but Mark, Felix, and Jes had gotten free, faking their own deaths in three independent missions. 

The first thing Mark wanted to do was go home to Jack. He’d missed the love of his life, but he knew the Black Army had been suspicious of their ‘deaths’ and thus would be watching over Jack to see if he ever reappeared. It hurt that he couldn’t go home, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing until now. 

\---

Jack woke up with a start, a cold sweat running down his back as the images from his nightmares played again in front of his open eyes: Mark getting gunned down, blood soaking into his uniform and the ground beneath him as he fell, beautiful brown eyes dulling as the life left them. 

It was a recurring nightmare and it normally meant that Jack would not be sleeping for the rest of the night. He picked up his glasses from his nightstand tiredly and put them on before sitting up straight. As he reached to turn his lamp on, a voice broke the silence. 

“Leave it off.” The voice was gruff, raspy, as though it came from a person who’d spent hours in the desert, eating sand and craving water. Jack nearly jumped out his skin. There was someone here...sitting in the dark. 

“W-who’s there?” Jack stuttered. He heard no movement but seconds later, the lower end of the bed dipped and Jack blinked blearily into the darkness, still not able to see right. The stranger laughed, though it lacked any sort of humor. There was a faint tinge of familiarity, but Jack couldn’t place it. 

“Hmm...I guess I would sound different now.” The voice said. Jack’s body tensed, a coldness running through his blood. There was no way. Absolutely no way. His mind was playing tricks on him and he was finally going crazy. All those years and he was finally breaking. 

“N-” He opened his mouth to speak.

“Yes. It’s me.” Jack could feel his mouth go dry and realized belatedly that he was crying. Before he could stop himself, he flung his entire body in the direction of   _ his _ voice, knowing he would catch him before he fell. 

Arms wrapped themselves around Jack’s waist and he heard a sharp intake of breath. 

“Why are you so skinny?” Jack didn’t answer. 

“I always knew you were alive…” He said instead. Jack looked up and his eyes had finally gotten use to the lack of light enough for him to make out the features of the man holding him tightly in his arms. 

“Welcome home, Mark…”

“It’s good to be home.” Mark replied in a deep rumble. 


End file.
